Beneath the Mask
by artemis-nz
Summary: A deeper look into Shuichi's and Yuki's relationship with each other, and an odd reversal of roles. Yuki/Shuichi.


**Shounen-ai: Yuki x Shuichi  
Created 11th Feb. 2005.**

Shuichi is sad.

It does not happen often – the world knows Shuichi only as a genki rock star, with outrageous pink hair, childish behavior, and a gorgeous voice. The world knows Shuichi only as what he allows himself to be known as. And that, for them, is good, because his happiness touches everything he does, is reflected in every gesture he makes, every word that he speaks, every glance he sends.

What the world does _not_ know is that if Shuichi is sad, it is also reflected, like shards of a broken mirror, or distorted ripples in a pond, in everything around him. In all things, Shuichi is himself – those few people, such as Yuki Eiri, who see this sadness – can see Shuichi's sadness as nobody else ever will.

It is in the way that his hair is unkempt and lies hazardously across the pillow of the bed, smelling only very faintly of that strawberry-scented shampoo.  
It is in the way that he lies, one arm by his side and one arm thrown up against his forehead as if warding off his unusual and unwelcome emotions.  
It is in the way his eyes, startlingly blue eyes, are only half-open, and dulled as they look around but see nothing.  
But, most of all, it is in the way that his lover, Yuki Eiri, will react.

Throwing reputation and cold act to the winds, Yuki will ask, with probing questions, just what the hell is wrong with the idiot singer today. When this elects no response but a blink or two, he will start getting seriously worried, and is, for once, not too proud to show it. Because, deep down, he cares about Shuichi - and he knows it.

So, he will do what any other person with even half a heart would do in this case.

He will state, very firmly, that his lover will _not_ be going to the studio this morning – to Shuichi's weak protests, he merely says that Shuichi is to stay in bed; he himself will make the necessary calls to ensure that, for just one day, Shuichi can rest and not have to put on the happy face the world is accustomed to seeing.

Yuki will not make soothing noises, nor fuss over the singer as a lot of others likely would, for that is not in his nature. He will, however, show his caring side in other ways – ways that even people who know him very, very well will never see, for Yuki's caring side is reserved for only one person.

It is, for example, in the way Yuki will tuck the blankets around Shuichi, quite gently.  
It is also in the way that Yuki's beer, laptop, and even his precious cigarettes will remain untouched for at least the next twenty-four hours.  
It is in the way that golden orbs meet blue for a single moment before the golden one's close and then open again to hold an emotion that one rarely sees in a man such as he. (It is very doubtful that anyone but Shuichi will ever see that emotion willingly displayed).  
It is in the way that Yuki will lie down beside him – not saying anything – just being there.  
It might even be in the way that Yuki will hum a snippet of a song quietly under his breath – so old that he himself doesn't know quite where it comes from, but still somehow knowing it for a soothing and relaxing tune none the less.  
It is in the way that, just before those blue eyes shut in a doze, Yuki will smile – a rare, and utterly beautiful smile that is not full of bitterness, or anger, or sadness, or any other emotion but the one Shuichi needs most at a time like this.

Eventually, Shuichi will fall asleep, automatically moving closer to Yuki's warmth and nuzzling his cheek softly. A smile will cross his own features – a weary smile, it is true – but a smile none the less.

And in the morning, when Shuichi wakes up, he wakes, not as expected, to an otherwise empty bed, but to Yuki watching him with bleary golden eyes – watching _over_ him, he is tempted – but luckily not foolish enough – to say out loud. Yuki, seeing that his lover is awake, although not yet quite aware, stands up stiffly to move to Shuichi's side of the bed.

Yuki stares down at him for a minute, then appears to have come to a decision.

Bending down without a sound, he puts his arms under Shuichi's still form and lifts him bodily up, until Shuichi now rests quite comfortably in Yuki's arms, and is carried, still without a single word from the writer, onto the outside balcony.

The chill morning air wakes Shuichi up fully – it is still near-dark outside. Yuki whispers into Shuichi's ear – just watch, he says. Just watch and listen.

So Shuichi does. He watches and he listens.

It is in this way that the two lovers will witness the sunrise, and hear the birds start to accompany the glows of a brand new day. No other words are needed, so that there is a hushed silence as the glow finally reaches Shuichi's face, warming both him and the man who holds him tightly, as if to never let him go.

Now Shuichi is no longer sad.

He is no longer sad because his lover has shown him that a new day has indeed come, and that, despite what is projected by Yuki on the outside, on the inside he is all care, and honesty, and love for the singer.

Shuichi is happy now, and no longer needs to put on his mask – for now, he has no need of it.

Now, once again, Shuichi's happiness will shine out just as the glow of the new day shine – his happiness will, once again, touch everything he does. It will be reflected in every gesture he makes, every word he speaks, every glance he sends.

His happiness, realises Yuki, is all for one purpose – or rather, for one _person_.

And now Yuki will kiss his lover lightly, and take them both back inside where it is warm, and lay Shuichi back on the bed where he can rest the Sunday away before going back to work. Yuki will then put back on his own mask of coldness, and have a cigarette, and boot up his laptop to write yet another story of love and pain and betrayal and heartbreak.

But that is all okay – Shuichi now understands. Everyone has a mask – Shuichi's mask is of happiness, even when he is sad. Yuki's is of ice and uncaring silences that Shuichi will always do his best to fill.

It is all okay, because Shuichi, like Yuki, has realised one thing that morning.

It is, after all, he murmurs to himself – long after Yuki has retreated to his study, of course – what lies _beneath_ the masks that count.


End file.
